


Floriography

by Misericordemika



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Grayson (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Flowers, Fluff and Angst, Hate Sex, Language of Flowers, M/M, Possible Character Death, Questionable Consent, Snippets, Unsafe Sex, jaydick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:24:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5785237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misericordemika/pseuds/Misericordemika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Jason serenades Dick with flowers</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Primrose

_Wherever he goes, whomever he becomes, Dick Grayson takes one book with him. Initially it began as therapy, suggested by Alfred to calm his anger, his calls for vengeance towards his parent’s murders. Slowly it becomes a habit, a way of piecing together memories too painful to keep yet too precious to forget. As the book fills, he takes apart the seam, adds new pages, and rebinds them. Volumes now line the bottommost shelves of his room, dusty but sealed in fireproof glass - the most valuable of his possessions._

_For the most part, the journals are monochromatic - spilled ink over yellowed pages. But somewhere around volume six, colours started appearing._

_That was when Jason entered._

* * *

  _Smudges of yellow; primroses crushed and pieced back together: young love that wouldn’t last._

* * *

Nightwing perched on top of Titans tower, a silent surveyor of the vibrant San Francisco night. The city was so different from the insufferable darkness of Gotham - breathing, pulsing, and just so full of life and hope, a glittering jewel on the west coast.

Perhaps villains also celebrated Valentine’s Day. The night was quiet but for a a few minor robberies, break-ins - nothing the police couldn’t handle. He flicked through the surveillances linked to his communicator. On screen, happy couples flashed at every turn, lighting up his face with a wistful smile.

Batman had told him, long ago, that personal happiness do not become a hero. Love is out of leagues for the likes of them, who always lurked in the darkness - self-sacrificing their youth and their health so the ones they protect could have the lives they couldn’t - the ones who may not even be aware of the blood shed by the likes of vigilantes.

He was motionless but for the soft winds lifting his black hair, a hawk waiting patiently for its next kill.

A metallic “ _ding_ ” from the elevator surprised him. Doors slid open. The footsteps were light, almost silent, and with a sliver of something like uncertainty.

Beast Boy? Can’t be. The guy had finally mustered the courage to ask Raven out, and her yes had surprised them all. Dick hoped he actually chose somewhere romantic for the occasion. Then again, Raven probably would adore him all the same, no matter what she says. 

Cyborg was too heavy and was out on his own date. Donna had a confident stride that could be _heard_  in the click of her heels. Wally wouldn’t give him so much time to try and figure out who it might be.

 _Starfire…_ he pushed her out of his mind. Her betrothal to the Tamaranean prince had irreversibly damaged their relationship. He doubted they could ever go back to before, considering his own value on fealty when it comes to love.

The wind picked up, and the familiar sound of a swishing cape lifted a smile to his lips. He knew that sound - he had worn it proudly for years.

“Hello Robin,” Nightwing tilted his face slightly, the way a hawk does when spotting a potential prey. “Did you run away again because Batman scolded you?”

The new Robin was of a lankier build than Dick had been - a reminder of a malnourished childhood that provided too few nutrients for too fast-growing a child. He blushed the colour of his uniform, his green eyes strangely bright. “No, it’s about something else.”

“Aw,” Nightwing took off his mask. He had found that people tend to relax more when they could see his eyes - a lesson learned from Superman. “You can ask me anything, little brother.”

Jason ducked out of his attempt to ruffle his hair. “It’s… flowers.”

“Ha?” Dick blinked.

The boy turned even redder, if that were possible. “I read that people give flowers to those they care about. I… saw you giving flowers to a girl the other day, and you said you’d like them too. So here --” He shoved bouquet of yellow flowers shoved under Dick’s nose. A flutter of yellow petals spiralled past him down into the harbour.

Dick couldn’t see Jason’s face hidden behind the flowers, but he could guess his expression: embarrassed with a hint of annoyance.

His blue eyes lit up in wicked delight. “Why _Jason_ , I didn’t know you paid so much attention to me? I thought you hated me.” He accepted the flowers, their fingers brushing together for just a moment.  

Jason jumped at the contact. “No…” he stammered. “I don’t.”

“Uh-huh.” Skeptical, Dick rubbed the petals between his fingers, and felt something of a rougher texture. He felt his eyes twitch as he read the tag. “You didn’t _buy_ this, did you?”

“Why would I do that?” The young Robin snapped, a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “So much flowers get wasted on this day of the year. Might as well recycle.”

“But you stole this from the old man?” Dick’s grin deepened, dimpling his cheeks. “Here it says “To my darling friend Silver - _Bruce_.”

“People label the flowers they give each other?” Jason stared. “Why the hell would they do that? Wouldn’t people already know who it’s from since they are doing the giving.” He noticed Dick’s visible shaking. “What?”

“I can’t breathe,” he gasped, struggling to hold down the bubble of laughter. “ _God_ I want to know what Bruce’s reaction would be.” To emphasize the hilarity, he wiped imaginary tears from his eyes.  

“Stop that!” Jason fumed. “I _knew_ this was a stupid idea. Here I thought you wanted to be given flowers and I went into all this trouble -” He broke off as an arm wrapped around him, and he found his face pressed against the blue bird on Dick’s chest.

“Thanks,” Dick ruffled his hair. “This is… surprisingly thoughtful of you.”

“Hey!” The boy puffed out his chest in indignation. “I _did_ take care of my mom for years.”

“Cute little bird.” Dick’s fingers combed through his roots. “I still don’t get why you dyed your hair. Red hair is cute.”

“Robin has to be black-haired.” Jason huffed. “We’ve talked about this already.”

“Hmm.” Dick hummed. “And the fact that you also wanted to wear blue contacts but Bruce forbade you for safety reasons? Stubborn Little Wing.”

“Never mind this,” the young Robin stammered. “Don’t tell Bruce this okay?”

“About the flowers you stole from his date? Or the fact that you sneaked all the way here?” Dick watched his flustering with a measure of fondness and glee.

Jason’s redness became a shade of tomato juice.

“Our secret,” Dick added before the kid could explode, solemnly lifting his hand.

Their pinkies locked. A strange tingle sizzled up his arm.

“By the way,” he said, pulling away a bit too abruptly at the strange feeling. “A few weeks ago you wanted me to show you that jump, right? How about you come with me on patrol tonight?”

Jason’s face lit up. “Can we play tag again?”

“Of course.”


	2. Lucerne

_Lucerne and oleander, touched with oak leaves_ . _Beware, it said with its purple and pinks and brave golden yellows._

* * *

He slammed the door to his room as he staggered, wincing as he felt the bruises on his face. Anger still boiled as he ripped off his tattered clothing; the warmth of the room chafed him, as did the whole manor. Swinging open his closet, ignoring how the door bounced off the wall - he would apologize to Alfred later - he tossed all his remaining Robin uniforms to the floor, the once treasured persona now disdained like a wound that won't heal.

“You are leaving?”

Dick dropped his backpack onto the bed. He was in his new Nightwing attire, sleek and collarless, with no trace of Robin remaining as the yellow had been stripped away, leaving only black and blue.

Jason lingered at the doorway, his body poised to enter but uncertain. “Why?” The teen was at Dick’s chest now, and catching up fast. His frame spoke of broad muscles and an aggressive fighting style. The lines of his jaw had hardened, giving his face a chiselled look that spoke of arrogance and a barely contained rage. 

“I can’t live in Bruce’s shadow forever,” Dick’s mouth was set in a firm line. “He can’t dictate how I live any longer.”

“I guess now is the time for you to depart some words of wisdom huh,” Jason clenched his teeth, green eyes flashing. A stint of bitterness harshened his tone. “Old Robin to new, brother to brother.”

Dick frowns, eyes narrowed.

“I wasn’t serious!” Jason wrinkled his nose, recognizing the look.

The older teen appraised the younger for a moment. “Life is unfair.”

“Huh?”

“Ten years ago, a thug kidnapped a couple’s two sons. The parents had only the money to save one.” Dick paused, filtering for the right words. “They chose the younger one. Fortunately, the older one also survived, but held a grudge. They lived in relative peace for ten years when recently, the older son needed money to bail out of bankruptcy. What do you think happens?”

Jason shrugged. “The younger son helped his brother out?”

“The parents gave money to the younger son to expand his own company.”

Silence.

“What is your point?” Jason said, hands clenched into fists, fingernails breaking skin.

“Life is unfair,” Dick repeated what he said in the beginning. “We are not Bruce’s  blood, this is undeniable. We are Robins, the ones closest to Batman. But one day Bruce will have another family - a blood family. Our bond cannot be thicker than the ones forged by blood. We need to become independent of him.”

“I _am_ my own independent person, Dick,” Jason retorted. “You are too. Can we end this topic of “Adoptive dad doesn’t love me” and get back to the fact that I got you damned flowers?”

Dick couldn’t hold back a snicker. “Who did you steal them from this time?”

“.... The Penguin.”

 


	3. Petunia

  _Petunias bloom amidst anger and resentment, a soothing presence in between pages of discord._

* * *

Summers in Blüdhaven did not last long. The snow lingered into spring, and the cold returned again by autumn, freezing the city into a still life muddled in its desolation; endless miles of abandoned wharves and chemo factories scattered with dumpsters and peppered with crows. Overshadowed by Gotham, Blüdhaven was a city forgotten in its unfortunate location and suffering economy, with a population that amounted to only a few hundred thousand people.

Thunder cracked, sending a splatter of half-frozen sleet against Dick’s window. The rhythmic pattering usually had a calming influence on the twenty-one-year-old, but today, it unsettled him. He stared at the pages of his book, unaware that he had fallen into a daze until something heavier slammed into his window.

The panes burst open, exploding in a frenzy of wind and sleet and icy cold; everything on his desk scattered to the floor as a figure, wet, slumped, and seemingly exhausted, rolled into his apartment.

“Jason!” Dick sprang up, his book sliding from his lap and already forgotten. “Are you _insane_? In this weather --”

“Are you going to yell at me too?” Jason croaked, his jaws a hardened line. He stood with his legs slightly apart as if expecting to be attacked. Green eyes glared from behind his wet bangs plastered onto his pale face. Water slicked from his uniform and collected to a puddle at his feet.

“Jason,” Dick took a step forward, ignoring the teen poised in defensive position. “Bruce told me you have been agitated lately.” He scanned the tattered Robin uniform and the roughly patched stitches. The furrow between his brows deepened.

“I am fine!” Jason growled.

“Right.” Skeptical, Dick prodded the teen in the chest. As he had expected, Jason teetered backward. An average thug could have taken him on in his current state. And to think that he had made the entire trip from Gotham in this weather, it scared him. The teen was getting more and more reckless, presenting a danger to others and most of all, to himself.  

Dick slid an arm around Jason before he could fall. His skin tingled from the body heat emanating from Jason, from the blood coursing with anger and a flare of resentment. Water seeped into his clothes and yet he stood firm, taking in the cold, the anger, the sadness - everything that was Jason. 

“I am never going to be good enough.” Jason flinched, trying to pull away. “Never going to be like you.”

He held him tighter, ignoring the startled yelp. “You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone, Little Wing. Not Bruce, not me, and least of all to yourself.” He ruffled Jason’s hair, slightly taken back by how tall the kid had become. “We are family.”

He waited until the trembling stopped.

“I got you,” he murmured. “Remember, no matter what you do, no matter who you choose to be, I will never let you go astray.”

“Big talk,” came the muffled reply. Warm breath tickled his neck. “I am gonna be taller than you one day.”

“Then you have a lot of growing to do,” he grinned, releasing him from his grasp. 

“I almost forgot.” Jason fumbled in his pockets. “Here.”

Compared to the tattered, wet mess that was Jason, the purple flowers had been carefully wrapped, a sheen of dew visible on the petals from under the plastic.

They looked familiar.

Dick twisted his mouth in a wry smile. “Did you raid Alfred’s prized petunia hedges?”

“Maybe.”

He shook his head. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes. You don’t have to keep doing this Jason. I am way past the romantic delusions I had in my teens.”

“Hmm.” Jason raised his arms and let Dick help him take off the uniform, uncharacteristically obedient. “I want to.”

Rolling up the uniform, Dick placed it in a bag with his own damaged equipment. “Go shower. I will--” He broke off as he realized that Jason had stripped down to his boxers.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen Jason naked before. They were both Robins. He had patched Jason up after particularly rough nights.

But tonight, something seemed different - changed. Maybe it was the unexpected show of weakness on Jason’s part. Or perhaps it was the scotch he had earlier in the evening. He swallowed, chasing the strange feeling out of his mind as he busied himself with rummaging through his closet.

“Here,” he tossed a spare towel to the teen and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as Jason slipped into the bathroom. Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head as he tried to calm the strange heat rising to his face from between his legs. _Oh God._ He knew this feeling. But how? He couldn't be feeling sexually frustrated. Not towards Jason, his younger brother. It must be the scotch. It _had_ to be. 

Letting out a groan of frustration, he sprang up and strode to his closet and started digging for his old clothes. They’d be a bit loose on Jason, but he could roll up the sleeves. Sliding over to the bathroom door in what looked like an awkward crab-walk, he opened a crack and placed the pile of clothing on the sink counter, and made a rapid retreat into the kitchen.

He needed coffee.

* * *

 

And that was how Jason found him: hair a ruffled mess, shirt half-opened, downing his third cup of coffee. The teen gulped, pulling his gaze away from the line of Dick's neck, from the way the kitchen light danced off of his infuriatingly long lashes. 

“Hey--”

“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” Dick interrupted, not looking at him. “You can take the bed and --” He almost choked as arms wrapped around his waist. The heat he had been quelling rose back up. _Dammit._

“.... together.” Jason muffled into Dick’s back.

“What?”

“I said we could sleep on the bed together you bastard!” The teen repeated, face flushing. “It’s your bed, and it’s big enough. I don’t take up much space - I’ve slept in worse--”

“Jason.” Dick placed his cup down on the counter. “What is wrong? What has happened? This isn’t just about Bruce, is it?”

The arms dropped from his waist.

“Nothing.” He tilted his head up, chin jutting forward like that of a mule. “I… just wanted you to stay with me tonight.”

Dick studied his face for a moment. “Alright, Little Wing.”

“Stop calling me that,” Jason grumbled. Dick’s response seemed to have lifted a weight from his shoulders, as he walked with a slight bounce. He dove into the bed and snuggled up to the pillows, taking in a deep breath of Dick’s scent. “I am not little anymore.”

“To me you are.” The other side of the bed dipped down as Dick joined him, careful to leave a few inches of space in between them. “ _Little Wing_.”

Jason blinked in the darkness, a lump welling up in his throat. He bit down hard onto the covers, and laid perfectly still until he felt Dick’s breathing slow. Only then did he dare inch towards him, pecking him on the cheek. Then he rolled around and faced the wall, feeling Dick's soothing body heat caressing his back. 

“Farewell, Dick.”

Tomorrow, he leaves for the airport.


	4. Stargazer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very short tie-over to Jason's return. This scenes in non-italic were loosely adapted from [hai-blue](http://hai-blue.tumblr.com/post/137014159821/jaydick-yj-%E6%9C%AA%E4%BE%86%E6%9C%83%E5%87%BA%E6%9C%AC-%E5%BE%8C%E7%BA%8C%E8%AB%8B%E7%AD%89%E6%9C%AC%E5%AD%90-%E7%AC%AC3%E5%AD%A3%E4%B9%8B%E5%BE%8C%E7%9A%84%E6%95%85%E4%BA%8B-15%E5%AD%A3%E7%9A%84%E6%95%85%E4%BA%8B%E6%9C%89%E6%8D%8F%E9%80%A0), who kindly gave me permission.

_The pages go blank for years. No colour. No words. A single petal of the stargazer lily graces just once date:_ _August 25th._

* * *

“Recognized, Nightwing. Welcome.” The doors slide open at the sound of the robotic voice. Nightwing lets out the breath he has been holding. It has been three years; he was almost certain that this year, he would no longer be welcomed; that this year, his selfishness has finally caught up to him.

A figure looms just beyond the doors, waiting. 

"Red Tornado," Nightwing greets him with an easy smile and a wave. "I am surprised you haven't changed the passcodes after I left."

"Bruce has willed it," the Justice Leaguer replies. He pauses, having encroached on a sensitive topic.

Nightwing's shoulders stiffen. Batman is an invisible shadow that lingers uncomfortably in the room. "Where are the others?" he asks instead.

"Out," Red Tornado says. "They think it's best if you are left alone."

A wistful smile graces his lips. Those idiots. "Thank you."

As Red Tornado turns to leave, he speaks to Nightwing's receding back. "You are always welcome here at Mt. Justice, Nightwing. Even if you are no longer part of the League."

Nightwing did not pause.

* * *

  _Jason._

_Asleep._

_Suspended in time._

**_Dead._ **

_The embalmer had done his job well. Jason's body had been rinsed, the blood drained. Wounds had been stitched closed and cleverly disguised with a collared shirt and tie beneath a suit half-a-size too big. The fluid within swellings and bruises had been extracted and the skin carefully disguised with makeup. Upon first glance, he looked as if asleep. And y_ _et his skin had a grey tinge that spoke only of death, his blood vessels ashen-green beneath the flimsy disguise. His face was petrified by an expression just short of a grimace, the opposite of when in life._

_Dick had, with trembling hands, took him into his arms, ignoring their friends' shocked gasps and Bruce's somber disapproval. There had been no tears, for such was a luxury he would not let himself have when he had had the opportunity to stop Jason from leaving; to save him._

_Instead, he had let Jason walk straight to his death._

_He knew something was off about Jason that night. He knew._

_Why didn't he try harder? If he had just tried a little harder._

* * *

Nightwing enters the familiar passcode. The walls of the mountain retreats, opening up a flight of stairs that descends below. The salty smell of the sea emanates into the room. 

He takes the steps slowly, careful of the slipperiness of the damp stairs. The surroundings darken and then light up again as he reaches the bottom, a small cave that opens up into the cove. 

Faint light shimmers in the image of fallen comrades. Dick took a brief pause at each effigy, paying his respects, until finally he stopped at the one in the centre.

* * *

_Batman had thrown the Joker, body cast and all, into the deepest, dampest cell in Arkham. That wasn’t enough for Dick._

_Nothing would be enough._

_Death was too good for the likes of Joker._

* * *

 “Jay,” he places the bouquet of stargazer lilies at the feet of that specific hologram. “Happy birthday.”

* * *

" _Ah, the first boy blunder," the Joker mused. His voice was lively, the gleam in his eyes a genuine pleasure in seeing Nightwing. He squirmed in his full-body cast, a wretched, ugly movement that seemed a hybrid between larvae and worms. "To what do I own the pleasure of your visit, pumpkin?"_

_"Jason." He gritted between his teeth._

_"Who?" the Joker raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion._

_Nightwing didn't reply; he knew better than to take the bait._

_Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes to hours. Nothing but silence as Nightwing glared: unmoving, unflinching, undaunted._

_The guards changed shifts, whispering amongst them. He paid them no attention._

_It was just him._

_Him and the monster who killed Jason. Not just killed. Tormented and humiliated him. Tortured and left him for dead. Alone._

_"Hm, perhaps I do remember a Jason," the Joker cackled. "He had no manners. You weren't a very good role model, were you?"_

_Nightwing didn't answer._

_"I guess that wasn't what you wanted to hear, phooey."_

_Nightwing takes a step closer, putting a gloved hand onto the bullet-proof glass. It would be so easy to breach this separation between them, and wring the Joker's neck._

_"Tell you what, dearie," Joker seemed amused by Nightwing's movement. "If you really want to know the details, you should instead go talk to that crowbar I hired. The way it made him whimper and grunt, the way the flesh was flung up like shaved cheese, oh oh oh! And the way the blood just splattered -" He broke off in delight as the glass shattered. His eyes rolled, ecstatic, as he watched Nightwing's blood drip onto the floor. The young man had punched through the bullet-proof glass - but he was no Superman. That got to have broken a few fingers, if not his entire wrist._

_His grin widened, the red paint around his mouth curving into a wicked crescent.  "I win."_

_Guards hovered. Protocol required them to usher the young hero out, but they were intimidated by the feral-look on his face and the barely contained snarl of rage._

_The Joker was in hysterics. Tears of joy glittered at the corners of his eyes as ten burly men struggled to restrain an one-armed Nightwing._

_"Let's play a game, lamb-chop," he licked his lips, eyes hungry. "Every time you come here, I will repeat the story, but with additional details. How long you last is gonna be how much you will be getting out of me for that day, deal?"_

_It was a challenge, a bait - a form of entertainment for the Joker as he rotted away in Arkham._   _But it was not something Dick could refuse. For an entire year he visited the monster every day, each time breaking a newly healed bone in that same hand, each moment listening to the Joker recounting every second Jason suffered at his hands. He memorized every blow Jason endured, every word the Joker uttered. He saw in his mind Jason's stubborn refusal to call for any kind of mercy, for help. He saw, in Jason's final moments, that his own name was lingering on his lips._

_He was punishing himself, he knew. And still is now._

_Shed no tears. Just blood._

* * *

“I grew taller again,” he said, only a slight crack to his voice. “You won’t catch up to my height, Little Wing.”

The hologram smiled back, lips curved in self-confidence. Dick’s hand passes right through Jason’s face.

“I miss you, Jason.”


	5. Dogwood

_An angel watches over Jason's grave. She was carved out of a piece of flawless white marble, her face frozen in an expression of perpetual sorrow. The artist had lovingly crafted every single detail, from the light curl at the edges of each eyelash to the sheer folds of her veil. Wings fan from her back, the edges carved as such that when raining, looked as if the feathers are about to sink down into the mud. One of her arms outstretches, as if reaching for something. Every day new flowers are placed in her hands, most often a black rose specifically cultivated and named "the Healer."_

* * *

_The branches have been sliced with trained precision, the pink petals scattered in a rain of regret. A knife had been stabbed clean through the hearts of the flowers, crucifying them onto the table like a pitiful sacrifice_.

* * *

“What the-” Dick stared at the state of his table. His heart raced, the sound thumping in his ears. Wearily, he drew his weapon. He didn't think it was a threat, but the years of holding down Bludhaven by himself had taught him to never let his guard down - not even for a seemingly harmless child. Movement caught the corner of his right eye; he whirled around and shot his escrima stick towards the window. 

The shadow perched at the ledge moved, clipping the weapon in its course with a skilled shoulder cut. The stick sizzled as it embedded itself uselessly into the wall. “Why Dickiebird, it seemed like all the colour drained out of ya, not that you had much to begin with.” The lazy drawl of voice was familiar, and painfully so.

Dick staggered.  _"Jason,_ ” he swallowed, his voice a whisper, almost scared. “Jason?”

The mask hid most expression, but the grin was unmistakable. Five years gone, the Jason standing before Dick was taller, more rugged, with a guarded vibe and dangerous glint. His hair had darkened into a deep-black, without the natural reddish tint. A tuft of white hair hung over his eyes, the green of which had hardened from pools of water to brittle jewels. 

“Thought I’d drop by to see how you are holding up,” he flashed his teeth. “Though your reaction is much more boring than I thought it would be.” He shifted, poised to jump.

“Wait--!”

“See ya.” He cackled. Grabbing the top edge of the window, he flipped himself up and swung onto the roof.

Jason leapt across the narrow gaps between buildings, tilting his face to the musty tang of Bludhaven, so different yet so similar to that of Gotham. The hair on the back of his neck tingled. He veered sharply, ducking into the windows of an abandoned building. The movement would have thrown any pursuer off of his tail, but not Dick.

Using his natural flexibility, Dick spun in an almost impossible angle and tackled Jason, both of them crashing through glass into a painful concrete landing.

_Shit._

Jason cursed as Dick pinned his arm back in a painful angle and pressed his knee into the back of his neck. This hadn’t been part of his plan. He was supposed to come here, rile up his predecessor, and then do the same thing to the old man. He would keep them guessing, but never suspecting, that he, Jason Todd, had returned from the grave. HIs mind screamed for him to buck, but his body chose not to respond.

“Jason,” Dick panted. Keeping his own weight as leverage, he flipped the man beneath around until they were face-to-face. Trapping him between his thighs, Dick yanked off the mask.

 Familiar green eyes glowered, partly amused but mostly annoyed, with a sliver of fear. They shifted rapidly, focusing on everything except the person on top of him.

“Jay,” Dick swallowed, caressing the familiar face almost reverently. “Jason.” He pushed back the frayed strands of white hair back against the black. “ _Dammit_ Jay, look at me!”  

Smouldering eyes fixed on him.

“Jay,” he breathed. “You… how?”

“Surprise.”

The concrete beside Jason’s head cracked. He blinked, then realized the culprit was Dick’s fist.

“Dammit Jason. We buried you. _I mourned you_!” Hands fisted into Jason’s collar, lifting his torso a good inch off the ground. “Five years! If you had been alive… why didn’t you come back? Why didn’t you come home?” Blood dripped from broken skin and broke bones, mixing with his sweat and seeping into his pores.

“ _Why?_ ” Jason ripped the suffocating hands away from his throat, Dick’s blood trickled between their fingers as their hands interlocked. “To come back and find out the old man didn’t even bother avenging my death? To see that I am not reason enough for Batman to keep the clown from hurting anyone else? To find out, after clawing through _six feet of earth_ and being hit by a car, all the while calling for him, that he replaced me within a few short years?”

His grip tightened, exacerbating the pain of broken bones as he watched Dick’s face writhe behind that mask. “Or to find out that _you_ helped him replace me?”

“Little Wing --”

“Don’t call me that!” Jason spat. The drop of saliva landed on Dick's cheek, and the older man flinched as if burned. He reached up and ripped Dick’s mask off so their eyes could meet, using the momentum to push Dick off of him, skidding a few paces apart. “I have always hated you. Batman’s golden boy. The first and perfect Robin. If it had been you-- he -- _I_ would never have stopped until that festering pool of filth is rotting in the depth of hell!”

“Jason, I am so sorry-”

“Don’t say that,” he interrupted, voice strained and low. “You don’t deserve to say that, not when you went along with what Batman did.”

Dick appraised the hint of madness in Jason’s eyes, the exhilaration in his own dimmed to a guarded confusion. He straightened to a hunched, defensive pose, tucking in his damaged right hand. “Why are you back then Jason. Why now?”

“It is time to put an end to things,” he replied. “Coming back from death is a message - a message that the world needs a new Batman, one that isn’t afraid of taking out cesspools like that clown.”

Putting his mask back on, Dick vanished into Nightwing. “You are turning to murder?”

“No,” Jason pulled out his knife from the holster on his thigh.  “Vengeance.”

They didn’t know who moved first. Shattered glass flew and walls shook as they clashed.

Nightwing moved like fluid, smooth and agile with lashing strikes that come from where least expected. He was light on his feet, a flyer without the power of flight and executing a myriad of spins, flips, and kicks.

Jason blocked, his movements reminiscent of his childhood in the streets - rough, aggressive, and dirty. He aimed for the weak spots and stabbed at where it would hurt the most, forcing his opponent to withdraw hits halfway to dodge. His five years of training had ingrained in him additional brutality and methods of taking lives.

But Nightwing was sleek, experienced, and with the advantage of speed. He dodged often at the last minute, cutting down Jason’s power by half with its misses. But his right hand handicapped him, and his punches were softened.

An opening.

Jason took it, launching himself forward with all the benefits offered by his height, weight, and muscle mass. He wrapped his arms around Nightwing’s waist, putting in all of his force to pin the other down.

His opponent flashed a triumphant smile.

_Shit._

Nightwing bent backward at the waist. His hands touched the ground as he pushed his knees up, turning Jason’s own momentum against him as he pushed, kicking Jason out of the old building through the single remaining window.

Jason cursed as he shielded his arms in front of his face. A lower building almost touched theirs. He took its roof as landing, rolling as soon as he touched before pulling himself back to a crouching position.

“We don’t do vengeance, Little Wing.” Silent but for the brush of wind, and Nightwing landed beside him. “You don’t want this. Those flowers said as much. You want me to stop you, is that not why you came here first?” His right hand hung at a grotesque angle.

“Bullshit,” he spat. “You have no idea how far gone I am.”

Nightwing studied him in silence, his face unreadable behind the mask. In this way he reminded Jason of Bruce, and anger welled up within him.

“Bruce is a relic, Dickiebird,” he said. “Just the other day he put the Black Mask in prison, and guess what? He bailed himself out with all the money from the dirty drugs he deals, and not just to druggies, but to children!” His voice hardened. “And you know that is not the only thing he deals.”

“I know,” Nightwing took off his mask.

“That is why I am doing this,” he continued. “I am doing what he is too afraid to do. I am taking him out - those whom the law won’t punish!”

Lighting flashed, lighting up the haggard lines on Jason’s face, the ghostly strands of white hair. Thunder drummed, bringing with it a sharp gust of chilling wind and an icy sleet. It was almost identical to the night before Jason left. 

“I am sorry Jay, I really am.” A hand grabbed his arm, almost pleading.

“Don’t you dare.” Jason’s voice was venom. “Don’t you fucking dare feel sorry for me. I don’t need your pity. I don’t need any of you.”

“But we need you, Jason. We need you to come back home,” The hand tightened its grip. “You have no idea how I - how _we_ were after you were gone. Bruce was inconsolable - Batman was descending to madness, they said - it was only when Tim - we love you Jason, what do I have to do or say to prove that to you?”

“Fuck my life,” the fight left him as Jason slumped down onto the roof. His face was hooded as rain mixed with tears. “Fuck me.”

A hand touched his chin and tilted his face up. The feel was different this time, a direct contact of warm skin instead of cold leather. Dick had taken off his gloves. 

“Okay,” Dick breathed. “Okay.”

And kissed him.

Rain trickled down their faces as Dick pushed his tongue into him; he pushed back, startled, until water mixed with saliva and stained their faces.

Dick was crawling on top of him, and he didn’t even realize when he had been pushed onto his back on the roof, the falling rain blurring his vision.

“What the hell,” he seized the back of Dick’s head, angling his mouth in deeper and fisting his hair in a rough grip.

 Jason was quieter than Dick had anticipated. When he had wondered what this day might be like, in the years past when he thought he had lost Jason, this definitely wasn’t it.

 _This_ was a flushed Jason pinned beneath him.

 _This_ was the rain-soaked roof of an abandoned building.

 _This_ was the icy sleet that seeped into the materials of their clothing, trickling down into their very bones.

At some point Dick realized that Jason wasn’t just going to let him fuck him, but was aching for it too. There were no lube and no condoms, but neither was worrying about this.

“Fuck. Grayson. Fuck you-” Jason grunted, the latter half of his sentence cut off by a particularly rough thrust. His breathing hitched as he strained to look at the man behind him. This was difficult, as a hand was gripping his shoulder, pushing him down. Giving up, Jason put his forehead against the wet ground.

“You are going to scrap the skin off of your face if you do that, Little Wing,” Dick flipped him onto his back, touching his face.

 Jason didn’t reply, but instead clung to Dick’s shoulders as he groaned with every thrust, his head tilted back and mouth open. He curled his legs around Dick’s waist, hard enough to bruise.

“You have no idea…” Dick reached down and worked Jason’s cock, moving in tandem with his hips. “How much I missed you…. How much… I wanted to do this to you…. since five years ago...”

“Pedophile,” Jason croaked. “At least have the decency to fuck me in an actual bed.”

“Hmm,” a smile curled his lips. “But you look like you are feeling it more out here.”

There wasn’t anything elegant, or even loving about any of it. They were bruised and bleeding and soaked with rain and sweat, and really was only concerned about the fucking. At some point, Jason’s leg was hitched up onto Dick’s shoulder, and their foreheads touched.

“Don’t do this Jason,” Dick panted, his breath the only warm part of him. “Come home. Come back to us. To me. Be my Little Wing again. We can be a team again. _Please_ Jason….”

 Jason gasped and came in long arcing splatters, staining his askew armour and leaving a noticeable streak across the blue bird on Dick’s chest.

 Dick followed soon after, gripping Jason’s ass with come-smeared hands as his head rested in the crook of Jason’s neck. He shook and stilled.

 They laid frozen, listening and feeling the rain splattering upon them, washing away all evidence of this crazy night.

 Jason pushed Dick off of him and sat up, hastily adjusting his clothes.  His eyes were lowered, unreadable.

“It is too late.”


	6. Judas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: questionable sexual consent is in this chapter
> 
> Note: Cercis is also called the Judas tree.

_Black roses, the colour of tainted Gotham nights. When entwined with a sprig of cypress and cercis, it says… Death to the traitor._

* * *

Dick clutched the piece of cloth in his hands, the “R” that had been dyed red by Damian’s blood, the “R” that he himself had proudly worn in the years past. He stepped into the cave, suddenly afraid of what he might see.

  
Batman’s cowl and cape were tied to a cross crudely nailed together, a crucifixion. The yellow bat symbol from Bruce’s early years was browned by blood.

  
“Tim,” Dick swallowed. He was in front of the cross in a few strides, grabbing hold of the cowl. Barbed wires dug into his palms.

  
“And here I thought Nightwing is independent of Batman.” A mocking voice came from the tattered and bloodied cowl. When Bruce had donned it, the cowl inspired fear; this one however, was darker, crueler, with an unmistakable tang of blood and a smudge of something almost evil.

  
“You intended to kill Damian,” Dick accused.

  
“I call that self-defence,” Jason’s voiced was alien, without a hint of emotion or humanity. “So lucky me, otherwise it would be _me_ you’d be mourning.”

  
Dick lunged, grabbing the source of the voice at the neck. “When you said you sought vengeance - I never thought, never imagined, that you are willing to go this far - to not just betray everything Bruce has taught us - but to betray fellow Robins - to betray me!”

  
“Always so sentimental,” Jason’s voice mocked. “Did you really think that selling your body would deter me from this path? Such a shock to you, isn’t it? Well here’s another one -” The cowl flared white-blue as electricity sizzled.

  
Dick let out a scream of pain as he was electrocuted. He dropped and rolled on the ground, away from the source. A metallic click, and he recognized the sound of a gun aimed at his head.

  
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Shadows parted as the real Jason emerged, donned full in Batman’s costume. “I am the one Gotham needs. Drake got in my way, and so he is eliminated, just like you will be.”

  
His heart clenched. “Jason, you are mad. You are not seriously thinking of… killing me?”

  
A maniacal smile. “Just watch me.” He pulled the trigger.

  
Dick tilted his head, unable to control the rest of his spasming muscles. The bullet grazed past his cheek, leaving a deep cut. Its casing dropped onto the ground with a metallic clink. Another click, and the barrel reloaded.

  
“You should know that Drake took it like a man,” Jason said, his eyes glowing red under the cowl as he aimed the gun straight at Dick’s temple. “He knew the consequences of rejecting my proposition.”

  
Dick remained hunched over, his forehead against his left arm as he struggled to prop himself up. “Jason, you are mad. Do you even know what you are talking about?”

  
“Be my Robin,” Jason continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Like the way I would have been yours had Batman not failed me, failed us.”

  
“You have lost it, don’t you see?!” Dick’s voice pitched high in desperation. “Take me to Tim, and I will make sure you get the help you need.”

  
“It is _you_ who need help Dick,” Jason said. “You and all of Gotham. And I am the one to help you all.”

  
Frustration fueled Dick’s muscles. He catapulted forward, dealing a cruel uppercut to Jason’s jaw. “Last chance, Jason. Where is Tim?”

  
Jason fell back into a rack of equipment. He raised his arms to shield himself, the gun clattering to the ground. Dick kicked it away. “Where is he?!” He punched him again before he could get up.

  
“Heh.” Spinning around, Jason returned the punch. “If you really wanted to know, there’s always the corpse.”

  
“Jason!” Dick growled, swinging his head down to slam his forehead into his face. A cracking sound indicated he had just broke Jason's nose.

  
Jason veered back, staggering as he pushed the back of his hand against his face to stanch the blood. "I sense fear, Dick. Tell me, what you afraid of?" He turned and kicked Dick in the stomach.

  
"Ugh." The taste of blood defiled Dick's mouth, and he coughed. " _Losing you_ dammit! When will you realize that?"

  
"Lies." Taking the opening, Jason knocked Dick off of the platform they'd been fighting on, watching him roll down the the stairs in a painful slump. "It's time you face your real fears." He flicked his wrist. With a whistling sound, green gas spurted from within his sleeves, dousing Dick full with Scarecrow's fear toxin.

  
Dick coughed again, the pain in his chest much greater than anywhere else. He pressed a hand to his heart, narrowing his eyes to see through the haze of green. The toxin wouldn't work on him, he knew, for Batman had immunized each of his Robins against all variations of it; it still disoriented him, however, as he started to see images in duplicates. He saw three Jasons, all bloodied, and in his mind's eye he reverted those images to the way the Joker had described him: tortured, alone, yet forever defiant.

  
"What are you actually after, Jason."

  
"To be Batman, obviously." Jason dodged a kick and grabbed Dick by the arm, contorting it behind his back and slamming the older man into the wall. He withdrew his knife and worked the blade under Dick's collar, slicing his suit all the way down his back.

"All these scars," he ran a gloved hand over the exposed skin as he ripped away the material. "How many of them were almost fatal? Which one of these likewise took Bruce away from us? All this would stop - all these sacrifices by you and the other idiots out there would stop - if you all would do things the way it should have been done, the way _I am_ going to do them!"

  
Dick turned his head, his left cheek pressed against the cold metallic wall. "Those are just peripheral scars. I have just as many under my flesh, and those were all caused by you, Little Wing." He grunted as Jason pushed him further into the wall. His vision blurred, partly from the residual toxin and partly from the pain.

  
"Then let me give you a few more," Jason growled. He unbuckled his belt as he tore open Dick's uniform even further.

  
Unlike the first time, when despite their haste, Dick took him with tenderness and a desperate passion, Jason didn't return the favour. His penetration was sudden, his movements meant to harm and maim, and not to give pleasure.

  
"You seem surprisingly used to this." With one hand he had Dick's arms pinned at his back, with his other he grasped at the delicate spot at the neck. He gritted his teeth and spewed out whatever words that would hurt the most. " _Whore_."

  
Dick bit down hard on his lower lip. He could feel the initial shock subsiding as the skin tore, slicking the intrusion with blood that ironically numbed the pain.

  
"Say it, Dick," Jason huffed as he ground harder. "Say you won't ever fogive me. Say you hate me. I killed so many people tonight, not just the ones deserving of death but also the ones that got in my way... _say it_!"

  
The effects of the fear gas was already leaving his system, as his body had been trained to metabolize it quickly. Dick started to recover feeling in his fingers. He stretched, testing. He could still move, still fight if he wanted to; there had been zero lasting damage on his body. Comparatively, Jason had it much worse, his face bloodied and his wounds still open.

  
"You... are such a bad liar, Little Wing."

  
The thrusting stopped. "What the fuck are you talking about."

  
"The flowers you sent earlier... cypress and cercis..." Dick elbowed Jason in the stomach, forcing him back. "It wasn't a warning, it was a message for yourself."

  
"You read too much into things, circus boy," Jason seethed. Unsteadily, he readjusted his clothing. "You betrayed me when you went along with what Bruce did. You betrayed me when you helped Bruce stop me from taking out the Black Mask. The traitor is you!"

  
"But also you," Dick shifted so they were face-to-face. "You also see yourself as a traitor to Bruce's teachings, a traitor to the kind of person you had wanted to be." His voice pitched low, gentle. "You wished death upon yourself as you delivered it to others. You love me too don't you? Your weakness in this moment wanted to force me to be the one to end you. I won't let you go that easily."

  
" _Why_?" Jason said, hands clenched. "Why won't you just grant me this wish? Why do you always have to be the golden boy?"

  
"Life goes on, Jay," Dick reached out his hand. "Stop killing people. Stop killing yourself!!"

  
"I won't give you the same choice twice," he replied. "I'll do it myself." His hand flicked. "Rest in peace, Dick."

  
"Jason!" Dick lunged, kicking the grenade out of Jason's hands just as it detonated.

  
The explosion rocked the entire building, taking out the roof and half of its stories. Dick dropped to his knees and rolled, shielding his head and neck from falling debris. When the dust cleared, he jumped to his feet, ignoring the cold winds lashing at his exposed skin. He found Jason hanging on to the railing, his feet dangling precariously over the rapid waters of the harbour.

  
"It's over, Jason," he reached again. "Let's go home."

  
Something hardened in Jason's eyes.

  
" _Don't_ ," Dick recognized it, panic seeping into his voice. "Don't do it Jason. I know why you sent those flowers. I know why you are doing this. I know you loved Bruce as much as any of us. I know the meaning you are trying to convey! "Cypress" - _I will protect you_. "Cercis" - _my most important person_! We all know Jay, so don't you fuckin' dare do this to us! To me!"

  
"Even if the rest of the world forgives me, I can't," Jason replied. He was hanging on just by one hand now, his fingers slipping. "Gotham has been cleansed. You won't have to soil your hands, Dick. Be the Batman."

  
"Jay!" Dick lunged dangerously close to the edge. Their fingers missing each other's by mere inches. 

  
"Don't cry, Dickiebird." 

 

The frothy waters churned as they swallowed him whole.

 


	7. Manjusaka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note that this work was originally meant to be one chapter of snippets, so things are jumpy between chapters and there may not be the same level of detail in each.

_Manjusaka bleeds crimson. The leaves grow when the flowers wilt; the flowers bloom as the leaves fall - two parts of the same flower that shall never touch, two paths of life and death that will never cross._

* * *

 

Jason sulked as he slumped in the purple alien chair, his feet tapping against the circular foot support. It had been months since he was fished out of the sea by Koriand'r, and a few more since they had rescued Roy and unofficially became the Outlaws.

"Even if I throw myself into the ocean I can't get away from you, Dickster," he mumbled, sinking further into Dick's sweater, one of the many articles of clothing Koriand'r had hoarded. "Your ex-girlfriend, your ex-best friend, and even your clothes." Yet despite his complaints, he never thought of buying his own clothing other than the necessities. Dick's clothes still retained traces of their original owner - a faint fragrance of metal and water and something almost floral.

  
"Hey Jaybird," Roy ducked his head as he stepped into the crashed Tamaranean ship that had been their hideout for the past few days. "How are the plans going? Kori has picked up some trouble back home with the Justice League, do you think we should --"

  
"Nothing they can't handle, most likely," he interrupted. "Besides, everything had been based on rumours... just because the Justice League hasn't appeared for a few weeks doesn't mean something happened to them. More importantly -" Jason slid the photos across the table. "Our next target. This bastard has been-"

  
"X'hal!"

  
Roy was up and out in an instant, the precious documents Jason had painstakingly put together scattered to the ground. "Kori?!"

  
Jason shook his head and followed.

  
A bowl lay shattered on the floor, its fruity contents bruised. Koriand'r stared at the holographic screen in front of her, her pupiless green eyes even wider than usual. The crimson spider lily in her flaming hair quivered. She pointed at the screen, speechless.

  
Roy took a sharp intake of breath, horror dawning on his face. "Dick."

  
On the screen was Nightwing, bruised and battered, the red of his blood dying his uniform brown. He appeared barely conscious, held upright by the iron grip of a woman in black who used his hair as leverage. He was bound, and his numerous gashing wounds spoke of torture. 

  
Jason's blood boiled. How dare she? How dare Bruce? Where is the Justice League? _Where the fuck is Batman?_

  
"Yes, Nightwing," her voice purred, the smugness broadcasting clearly through the transmission.

  
No.

  
"But more importantly," she reached out her hand towards Nightwing's battered face.

  
_No._

  
She unmasked him, revealing his face for the world to see. "He is really Richard Grayson."

  
"No!" Jason smashed the controls. The screen spluttered and died. 

  
Silence hung, a stifling feeling akin to the calm before a thunderstorm. to the quiet before a detonating bomb, to the stillness before Red Hood kills.

  
Koriand'r lifted off the ground, her green eyes ablaze in fury. Roy was already shouldering his quiver, hands clenched in expectation.

  
"Just give the word, Jaybird."

  
Jason shrugged on his jacket, grabbing his crimson hood. "We are going to get him back."

  
He won't let Bruce repeat the same mistake. Not again.

* * *

The clocked ticked. Time was running out.

  
"Jason, listen to me," Dick wheezed. "You can't put your friends, _our friends_ , in such danger. You have to end me." He turned his head with some difficulty to look at the timer on the murder machine. A sliver of desperation seeped onto his face. He won't allow himself to steal more time like this, not if his selfish acts would mean putting everyone in danger.

  
Yet Jason - his Jason - normally so bold and decisive and fearless, faltered. Their surroundings shook as Koriand'r landed a drop-kick right into Superwoman, plowing her through the floor. They had been joined by members of the Teen Titans and a freed Justice League. As the two sides engaged in battle that shook the very foundations of their world, Jason's hung frozen. He bowed his head, his hands still prying uselessly at the metal contraption that trapped Dick to the bomb. Every time he broke through, the machine repaired itself.

 

"Jay."

  
He lifted his head, eyes red. "I can't do it. Sorry Dick, I'm disappointing you again."

  
"You aren't-" Dick kept glancing at the clock. Two minutes left.

  
Jason placed both hands on Dick's face. "I've been through death, through my own funeral and burial. I have never thought I'd ever be in a worse situation than back then..."

  
"Listen to me Little Wing," Dick moved as if to touch Jason, then realized that he had forgotten he was still bound to the machine. Even so, he leaned his head forward so their foreheads touched. "Luthor has already injected me with a lethal agent that is slowing my heart as we speak. I am already dead. I am asking you... _begging you_ to end this fast - you know how I hate to wait."

 

The timer ticked.

  
_Ta. Ta. Ta_. Each beat was a thunderous drum against Jason's heart, leaving him choked and breathless. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but his mind was fully blank. Perhaps he wanted to say Dick's name, perhaps he wanted to tell him the truth of his feelings, perhaps he simply wanted to go on a swearing tirade about Dick's infuriatingly self-sacrificing attitude.

  
But in the end, he closed his mouth, and reached out.

  
At first Dick felt his hand, patterned with calluses and roughened by metal. The palm rested on his cheek, an anchoring contact for his drifting self, a quiet plea for him to stay awake. They both knew that if he slept, he wouldn’t come back.

  
His other hand joined. This one gripped his jaw, a desperate cry for him not to leave.

  
Then his forehead touched his, as natural as sunlight kissing his blood-stained hair, a mute confession. The hands moved to his neck.

  
_I love you. I love you. I need you._

  
Lastly their lips touch, one pair unresponsive while the other quivered with fear and a silent declaration.

  
_I will wait. I will wait._

  
Dick’s lips parted. A single word exhaled with his last breath.

  
“Don’t.”

 


	8. Belladonna

_The snow-white angel remains in the Wayne family cemetery, prevailing over Dick Grayson's fresh grave, holding a posy of belladonna, the deadly flowers warning all who approaches. Despite her life-like countenance, she does not move, her lashes do not flutter - her face always frozen in grief._ _The rain increases, pulling stray feathers from her marble wings and stabbing them into the mud below._

_Jason wobbled out of the manor in a daze, in his arms a small chest filled to the brim with journals. He avoided Bruce and the others, but Alfred had managed to track him down and handed him the chest with a pointed, severe look._

_Flowers bookmarked every page of the journals, flowers he sent out of admiration, out of young love, even those sent out of spite and hatred and threat; all had been carefully pressed and inserted, the colours still vibrant after all these years - each petal bookmarked not only a page of Dick Grayson's life, but their shared history, their unbreakable bond._

_Damn you, Dick. Always so sentimental._

* * *

 "Now Red Hood!" Roy shouted as he knocked the target to the ground with a seasoned shoulder cut. He spun around and fired a barrage of arrows at the guards, spearing their hands before they could fire their weapons.

  
Jason kicked away the grasp of a dying guard and loaded his gun. He aimed at the forehead of his target.

  
His hand froze, unable to pull the trigger.

  
The target didn't beg for mercy, instead resigning himself to his fate. For a moment, his face converged with that of Dick.

  
He couldn't do it.

  
Not again.

  
He couldn't kill Dick again.

The target took the chance to draw his dagger.

  
"Jay!" Roy's cry of warning was interrupted as Koriand'r kicked through the ceiling; she had engaged with a few helicopters and had caught the cry of distress. Her eyes flashed green, and everyone but for her teammates incinerated. Unbearable heat flared in one instant and gone the next. 

  
"Goddammit, Jason _not again_!" Roy dropped his weapons. He ripped a piece of fabric from his shirt and balled it up, pressing down hard on Jason's abdomen. "Kori, you need to cauterize his vessels!"

  
Jason resigned himself to his teammates, letting the darkness and pain and the heat of Kori's starbolts swamp him.

* * *

_Where is this?_

  
Jason stood in a tunnel, the only light emanating from directly above him, leaving him standing in a halo among the darkness. He wasn't sure how he got here, or why. The only choice at the moment was to keeping walking forward into the black abyss, towards an unknown destination. The halo of light followed him, keeping the darkness at bay but also hindered his senses.

  
_Oh well._ Jason instinctively touched the gun at his belt, anchoring his nerves with its metallic feel.

  
Footsteps approached.

  
A shadow emerged from the opposite direction. Due to the dim light, Jason could only see a blurred image at first. But as the person got closer, their outline sharpened.

  
_Bruce._

  
He glanced at Jason as he strode past, a myriad of unspoken emotions hidden in that one look: regret, self-blame, and heavy disappointment.

  
Jason shirked his face away from his adoptive father. "I need neither your pity nor your approval. I only need my own definition of justice."

  
Tim passed him next. He spoke through his communicator, laughter apparent even through his mask as he conversed with his teammates in the Teen Titans. He seemed oblivious to Jason's presence, or was ignoring him on purpose.

  
The corner of Jason's mouth curved in self-mockery.

  
He had been so easily replaced: as Batman's Robin, as a Titan, as Dick's Little Wing.

  
Damian rushed by, tackling Jason's shoulder with a running kick. Jason glared. The boy made a face at him before chasing after Tim.

  
_Little brat_.

  
Jason didn't turn back to follow the others, but continued walking, their paths diverging further.

  
A light glimmered in the distance.

  
An exit, perhaps.

  
Two familiar figures appeared, their backs facing him. The alien princess had her arms delicately wrapped around the red-haired archer. Jason lengthened his strides, trying to catch up. Instead he found himself further and further away.

  
_Wait._ He reached out towards their shadows. He opened his mouth, but said nothing.

  
His two friends disappeared into the light.

  
Jason staggered in the dark. He crouched down and buried his face into his arms, a wetness prickling at the corner of his eyes.

  
He was alone again.

  
An insubstantial hand patted his head.

  
He threw his head up.

  
A young man smiled down at him, his eyes a warm blue and his smile painfully sad. His entire being appeared faint, a canvas washed of all its colours. "Little Wing."

 

"Dick," he whispered. This was a trick - it must be. Or perhaps this was the afterlife? 

 

"You've changed, Little Wing," the ghostly image of Dick spoke again. "You have been merciful with your enemies, hesitant - no longer self-destructive but dangerously distracted. Tell me, what stopped you from continuing to kill?"

 

"It's your fault! This is all your fault!" Jason narrowed his eyes. He pulled himself into a sitting position and glared up. 

 

"Jason," Dick said. "I've tried the begging, the sex, the beating of some sense into your thick head - none worked. I've laid out the entirety of my dignity before you to pull you back from your path. At the very end, what was enough to finally change you?"

 

Jason swallowed, a painful lump in his throat. " _Your death_."

 

 "Hm. You owe me big then." Dick smiled, and the darkness all around them receded. Light exploded, painting Dick in his signature azure. He reached out his hand, palm facing up. 

 

Jason grabbed him by the wrist and yanked, pulling Dick down into his embrace. "How shall I pay you back?"

 

"I am thinking," Dick pinched Jason on either side of his cheeks. "It's about time you got me red roses - and please don’t steal them this time.”

* * *

 Jason started as he shot up to a sitting position on the bed. He rubbed his face, memories flooding back. He felt a wetness on his cheeks.

To his left, Roy mumbled something incoherent and flipped around. To his right, Kori slept with her fingers hovered protectively around his arm. Sandwiched between his two friends, Jason let out a breath. The night was still young, the moon only just beginning to rise. Silver tendrils dipped into the room, bringing attention to something sitting on the window sill.

 

Jason ducked under the covers, sliding from between his two friends as he wiggled out at the foot of the bed. He winced as pain from his stomach reminded him of their botched last mission. He limped to the window and picked up the object that had caught the gleam of the moon.

 

A brilliant azure feather. 

  
"Fuck you, Dick."

**Author's Note:**

> This is best considered AU, as I used multiple canon resources, fanworks, and headcanons, and mixed them all together. It was originally meant to be one chapter until it got too long, so each chapter will vary quite a bit in terms of length and themes.
> 
> I made some graphics on [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/misericordemika/) to go along with it when I am distracted.


End file.
